Useless
by Ariels Lament
Summary: The Colonel is taking his 1st Lieutenant's words to heart. And he isn't doing a good job of hiding it from anyone.


**A/N: Finally! I've been able to start _and_ finish something. I was just reading through the manga and saw Roy in all his sulkiness after being called useless...and then this idea was born. It was actually supposed to have a bit of RizaxRoy fluff near the end...but it didn't turn out. Oh well. Mayhaps for next time.**

**And no, I don't own the characters of Fullmetal Alchemist.**

Useless.

The word reverberated within his head, as cold as the rain that had soaked him through the day before. Quite frankly the whole situation had been embarrassing. He must have become exceedingly comfortable with his alchemy over the years if he'd managed somehow to forget the weather's effects on his technique. That would not do.

Making a fool of oneself while lecturing another about being a fool was difficult enough to swallow. But this really wasn't the reason the Colonel was staring sulkily out the office windows, an obvious cloud of gloom hanging over his head. No. There were more devastating blows to the ego than embarrassment.

Fools were fully capable of taking control of government. History had proven that fact time and time again. But no. This was was much worse. He was _useless_. Incapacitated. Unable to do a thing after he'd tossed that handgun unceremoniously to his aide who later busied herself with it and her own, letting him know in that blunt way of hers that there was absolutely nothing he could do at the time. The word hadn't left his mind since, taunting him even in his sleep that night. He might as well make the word his new name. Useless. Colonel Useless. Why yes, it had a catchy (albeit degrading) ring to it. Fullmetal would have a hay day for sure. The very thought caused him to sink even more dejectedly into his chair, a hopeless sigh making it's escape from his person. Correction. His very _useless_ person.

Too deeply enthralled with his thoughts of self worth (or rather, his lack thereof), the commanding officer didn't notice the curious looks he recieved from his subordinates. Nor did he hear the whispered conjectures for his out of touch state.

"He hasn't been well since his encounter with Scar yesterday has he?" The young Master Sergent voiced his concern, the shuffling sound of his papers masking his voice so that only the three around him could hear his words.

"Maybe all that rain yesterday made him ill," Breda offered.

The musings were interrupted by another great heave of breath from the Colonel's desk and the foursome looked up at the pathetic, slumped form gazing wistfully out the windows.

"I don't recall any colds that cause incessant bouts of sighing. At this point it seems more like a depression."

At Falman's words, Havoc's face brightened, and his unlit cigarette wagged dangerously in his mouth as he spoke. "She dumped him! She must have. Serves him right, the bas-mph!"

His excited theory ceased as three sets of hands made their way from all sorts of awkward angles to clamp themselves over the 2nd Lieutenant's mouth, three pairs of eyes shooting nervously towards Mustang's desk. He, however, apparently had not taken notice to Havoc's disrespectful outburst, continuing to look out the windows in the same dejected manner. Letting out a relieved breath, the three removed their hands from the scowling Lieutenant's face. A small thwack resounded throughout the room as Breda brought his hand around against the blond man's head. The quiet string of swear words followed as Havoc fished beneath the table for his broken cigarette.

"Watch what you say about your commanding officer," the burly 2nd Lieutenant whispered scornfully.

"It's not like the chief is even listening to us. Look at him," the smoker retorted as he leaned his chair nonchalantly onto it's back two legs and nodded in Mustang's direction.

Breda leaned his head forward further into the huddle. The action compelled his peers to do the same, and a loud clack could be heard as Havoc let his chair drop down to it's natural position. "You guys _do_ realize that it's getting close to inspection time again right?" Falman nodded as the other two looked at each other with sudden realization. Satisfied, he continued his theory from behind the back of his hand.

"You know some of the stories told from before he was promoted to Colonel. It's said that he managed to weed out several officers he didn't feel were supportive of him. He could be pulling off an act right now. You know, test our loyalty type of thing. See what our attitudes toward him are when we're sure he's not paying any attention." All at once, the four officers turned their heads to the pitiful form behind the desk, a newfound suspicion gleaming in their eyes.

With a final glance at each other, the huddle dispersed and the four began their morning paperwork routine anew. All except for the Colonel's current useless state and the 1st Lieutenant's absence due to a meeting, the room was seemingly more efficient than usual for it's first hour of operations that day.

But that's when Fuery found his previous stack of papers that he'd set down and forgotten about during the crew's attempts to figure out Mustang. They were already a day late and needed to be looked over by the Colonel urgently. A quick peak showed Mustang to be little better off than he had been earlier. It did, however, seem that he'd at least attempted to return from his slump. He was no longer staring out the windows and had a pen in his hand. Judging by the small pile nearby, he'd even been able to focus enough to sign a few. The Sergent watched for a moment as his superior tapped the current piece of paper with the tip of the pen, still looking utterly miserable. This could be the only chance he got today to get them signed.

"Colonel."

Fuery could feel his comrades' curious eyes burning a hole in the back of his head, but the Colonel had yet to meet him with his own. Whatever kind of test he was cooking up, Fuery was determined to prove himself. Perhaps pretending not to hear him was the Colonel's way of telling him he was too timid and needed to take a more aggressive roll in his work. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been given such advice. Closing his eyes, the Sergent took in a deep breath, squaring his shoulders in a manner he thought would seem more confident. This time when speaking his tone took on a more serious note, much like Hawkeye's. It worked. The Colonel raised his head and stared at him blankly. Trying not to let the empty gaze unnerve him, Fuery didn't skip a beat before launching into his explanation.

"Colonel, these papers need to be looked over and signed as soon as possible. They were due yesterday, but with the Scar incident, there wasn't much of a chance." Short and to the point. No apologies. And to complete his more Hawkeye-like endeavor, he set the stack of documents atop his superior's current, half scribbled signature.

Mustang stared at the stack in something akin to confusion. A frown crossed his features and he mumbled in an agitated manner. I was hard to tell for sure, but the Sergent thought he made out the words "what good is it" and "useless". While the Colonel had never been fond of office work, he'd never, as far as Fuery had seen, seemed quite so put out about it. Even as he stepped away to rejoin the rest of the crew, Mustang's self-degrading mumbling continued. I could even be heard above Falman's and Havoc's loud comments about how much more organized the files were. Breda merely sat in silence, diligently working on his papers and a bagel he'd run out to get not long before. Thankfully, the strangeness of the morning was almost complete.

Shocked wasn't quite strong enough a word to describe the 1st Lieutenant's feelings when she stepped into the office that morning. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen these men carry out their work with such zest and enthusiasm. Coffee in one hand and folder of important documents tucked beneath her other arm, Hawkeye surveyed the spectacle with interest. Fuery was gathering and stacking completed work from each desk, his usual timid and apologetic mannerisms absent as he rebuked Breda about a few errors in a report he'd submitted. Havoc and Falman's voices soon drowned out the admonitions. Some argument about whose idea for organizing the filing cabinet was more efficient.

This caused the woman to blink in confusion. Since when did those two even use the files in the cabinet anyways? More often than not she was the one left to the irksome task of attempting to create something vaguely resembling organization to those folders. The officers all seemed too preoccupied with their current business to notice her arrival. Her gaze never faltered from the four even as she made her way to the desk at the far side of the room. Even when she set the documents on the Colonel's desk, her eyes remained transfixed on them.

"Did i miss something this morning?" She sipped her coffee, awaiting a reply. The silence prevailed, however, and she set her cup on his desk. The shuffling sound of papers falling to the floor immediately afterward finally brought her attention to what she had so far managed to miss. Crimson eyes widened at the sight. The desk was buried beneath disordered piles of paper. It was a wonder that they too had not met the same fate with the floor. Riza was certain that the feeling of awe she was experiencing could be seen by everyone, and the silence in the rest of the room proved it. The falling paper must have caught their attention as well and she could feel them waiting to see what would happen next.

The disheveled Colonel heaved a sigh, his head propped up by one hand as he twirled the pen absent-absentmindedly in the other, bringing the aide's attention to him. A minuscule pile of paper maybe ten sheets thick lay in front of him, his signature only half completed on the top form.

This could not go on.

"Colonel." Her stern voice cracked like a whip in the room's silence. It even managed to bring her superior from his reverie. His empty, dark eyes rose to meet her own. "Sir, you haven't done anything."

At this, the air in the room seemed to thin significantly as the rest of the group took in a deep breath. Mustang only blinked at her, leaning back in his chair a sighing yet again. "No it seems I haven't."

"Why not?"

The question hung unanswered in the air for a moment before he made eye contact again.

"I wonder, Lieutenant." He slumped back into his chair, tossing the pen onto the desk in a defeated way as he released another infuriating breath of air. "What's the point? What difference will it make. I'm useless." He emphasized the last word almost as if it pained him to speak it. Her jaw dropped slightly at the sudden realization of what this was about.

He was _sulking._

"That?" she managed to choke out after regaining her composure. With a shake of her head, the 1st Lieutenant let out a sigh of her own. "Sir, have you been sulking this entire time?"

He bristled slightly and peered at her through narrowed eyes. "I'm not sulking." They stared each other down in silence before he sighed again, immediately reverting to his previous deflated state and rested his cheek resting on a fist. "How in the world will I be able to manage over a country if I can't even manage a bit of rain?" he mumbled softly.

Hawkeye couldn't contain a small scoff. "Colonel, now isn't the time to try and repair your ego."

He didn't respond, just continued staring out into space thoughtfully. Her resolve broke at the sight. Maybe there was a little bit of time to spare after all. Riza picked up her coffee, and took a seat on the recently freed corner of the desk. She stirred the drink with a straw in silence. Quietly, so as to only reach his ears, she spoke. "You're a fine leader, Colonel. While the higher ups may not think much of you, your subordinates respect you immensely. I'm sure the people will accept you just as readily. So even if it rains you'll have many people who are loyal to you to aide you." She took a sip of her coffee, giving him a moment to think.

"Lieutenant," he finally replied in a soft voice, "have I ever told you that your way with words is impeccable?"

"Thank you, sir," she deadpanned, hopping to her feet so as to get back to her own work. "But I'm not writing that report requested of you about yesterday."

She couldn't help but smile when he scoffed at her answer, and she could practically feel the frown he was directing toward her head. For now, he was back to normal.

"You four. What are you staring at? Get back to work. Havoc. Breda. Help me sort these reports over here."

The foursome stared at each other in astonishment before the 2nd Lieutenants walked off. None of them were sure what to make of what had just happened. Whatever the case, Fuery thought, it didn't seem like their extra efforts for the morning would be noticed or praised after all. Ah, well. He really doubted that donning a less timid demeanor would work with the Colonel under normal circumstances anyways.


End file.
